Hermione Singer - Legend
by mlr96
Summary: Many years ago, Bobby Singer met a woman who helped him move on from Karen's death. A year after the last time they've met, she shows up on his doorstep with a bundle in her arms. Now Bobby needs to learn how to raise a child, while she needs to handle more than the normal problems of growing up - Friendship, love and war.
1. In the Beggining

**A/N:**** Hey ya'll! I had the idea for this story a couple of nights ago, started writing to get it out of my head and it just flowted so I decided to start publishing it.**

**I will try to upload at least once a week but no guaranteed because my other story comes first, at least for now.**

**Story starts before Hogwarts, skips through moments of Hogwarts I thought would be important/had ideas for and will go through Supernatural, at least until season 6 maybe even later.**

**I'd like to thank Jay Nice for being the beta for this story.**

**Hope you'd like it!**

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><p>January 1980.<p>

A tall woman stood at the doorstep of the breaking down house, a small package in her hands. She debated for a moment if she should just walk away, remembering the last time she'd met the resident of this house, but eventually decided to stop thinking about herself. Her doom was already known, and near.

She hastily knocked on the door, and waited for the man to open it. He frowned when he saw her.

"What do you want, Mar?" he growled, and she took comfort in the fact that he at the very least used her nickname, rather than calling her by her full name.

"Can't an old friend just visit, Bobby?" she asked, walking into the house without invitation. The war was taking away all of the strength she'd had, but seeing him brought back the little childhood left in her twenty-three year old form.

"Last time I saw you, I told you to never come back," he muttered.

"And I had full intentions of doing just that," she replied. "Alas, sometimes we cannot do as we please, but as we must."

Bobby took a moment to consider the woman in front of him as he followed her to his living room. She still sported a fine, British accent and a tall, proud frame, but she seemed different from the last time he'd seen her, nearly a year ago. She seemed… defeated somehow.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"War," she said. "One I seem to be on the losing side of."

"War?" he repeated. "Between… your… kind?"

Marlene smiled sadly. "Yes," she said. "A Wizarding War."

"And you came here for shelter?" he asked.

"No," she said simply. "I am not likely to survive to see the end of this world. Hiding here will do me no good other than to put you in danger." She looked into his eyes, which reflected the love she felt for him. A love he told her he no longer felt. "I'm not here for shelter…" she repeated. "Not for myself, at least."

She carefully handed him the small package in her arms and he took a moment to look at it.

"What in the name of…" he trailed off.

"Yours," she said. "Couldn't have been anyone else's." She looked longingly at the sleeping baby that was now in his hands. "Her birthday is on September 19th," she provided. "She just turned four months old last week. I am hunted," she added, causing him to look up at her, "and so is my entire family. Nobody knows about her existence other than myself and my parents, and now you."

"Mar…" he started but she cut him off.

"Let me finish," she said, tears in her voice. "Please. I will probably have no other chance to tell you this, and I want you to know it all. I'm sorry, for keeping it a secret from you for so long, and I'm sorry for all the other secrets I've kept from you. I was only trying to protect you from the darkness of my world, just as you tried to protect me from the darkness in yours. I hope for your forgiveness, and hope that you will one day understand why I did it all."

She leaned in and kissed him once, very softly, before turning and walking towards the door.

"Marlene!" Bobby called and she turned to look at him. "What's her name?"

"Hermione," she replied as she walked out of the house and apparated away.

"Hermione," Bobby repeated quietly. "Hermione Singer."

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><p>January 1986.<p>

The young girl ran around the house, screaming with the pure joy of childhood as she enjoyed the feeling of her hair trailing behind her.

Bobby Singer looked at his six-year-old daughter. She was so young and naïve, still untouched by the evil of this world. The evil he hunted. The evil he tried with all his might to keep away from the clever kid, who had already started asking questions.

She had inherited her mother's curls, but his brown hair. She had her brown eyes, but his eye-shape. And she inherited all of her mother's expressions, starting with joy and ending with anger. Young and small as she might have been, when she was angry she made everybody in her surroundings shiver.

As she decided to take a leap down the stairs, Bobby realized she wasn't going to make it. He jumped from his place, the warning at the edge of his tongue, but she'd already jumped.

She stayed in the air longer than he thought she would—longer than she should have—and he knew it was yet another sign that her mother's powers had passed on to her. But he was ripped away from the thought when her landing still wasn't perfect and she called out in pain.

"Daddy!" she cried, and he picked her up, gently placing her on the couch and looking at her bleeding leg. Just a scratch, nothing more, but wounds like that always seem bigger.

"It's alright, Mya," Bobby soothed the girl, taking out some gauze and antiseptic and preparing a Band-Aid nearby. "It's gonna sting a bit, but then it'll get better. Are you ready?" She nodded. "Hold my hand against the pain."

He disinfected the wound and she squeezed his hand as he put on the Band-Aid, but recovered quickly afterwards.

"Not so bad any more, is it?" he asked, wiping away her tears.

"Not at all, Daddy," she replied, hugging him.

"Don't you do that again, would ya?" he asked. "Gave me the creeps for a moment there."

"I won't," she promised.

He gave her a short hug to reassure himself that she really was okay, when a knock was heard from the door.

Instantly, he was taken back to that moment nearly six years ago, when Marlene had knocked on the door and brought him what was yet to be the only real joy in his life since he lost Karen. He knew she couldn't be back – if she was still alive she would have returned long ago – but every time someone knocked, he couldn't help but hope.

He opened the door to see a man slightly younger than he was, standing on the threshold.

"Yes?" he asked grumpily as moments passed and the stranger said nothing.

"Are you Bobby Singer?" the man asked.

Bobby's hand tightened on the shotgun that was just outside of the man's sight. "Depends on who's asking," he said.

"My name is John," the man said. "John Winchester. Rufus told me about you, and he said you might be able to help me with a case I'm working on." He looked at something behind Bobby and when the older man looked as well, he found Hermione peeking out from behind his leg, torn between curiosity and shyness. "Rufus didn't mention you had a kid," John said mindlessly.

"Yeah, I'm kinda busy right now," Bobby said. "Sometimes it's best to wait until there's nobody listening," he explained quietly, looking at the girl at his feet. "Why don't you come back later tonight?"

"I can't," John said, gesturing at the car where Bobby could now see a kid around Hermione's age playing with a young toddler. "I don't like leaving my boys alone at night."

The look on Bobby's face immediately softened. "Why don't you all come inside?" he asked. "Mya would love to have some friends her own age to play with for a change, and we could talk without disturbance."

"Sure," John replied, and walked back to the car. "Dean," he said, causing the older boy to look up, "why don't you two come inside? I need to talk to someone and it's best if you don't wait in the car."

The kid, Dean, nodded and walked outside, leading his brother behind their father, and the trio came into the house.

The boys paused at the sight of Hermione, who was no longer hiding behind Bobby, but looking at them with undisguised curiosity. Though many strangers came to the Salvage Yard to speak with her dad, this was the first time any of them had brought kids. She hadn't known any kids other than those who went to school with her and bullied her for her bushy hair and slightly bigger-than-usual front teeth, but those two seemed nicer.

Seeing as none of them was going to introduce themselves, she stepped forward. "I'm Hermione," she said politely.

"I'm Dean," the older one said, "and this is my brother, Sam."

"Why don't you guys go to play outside?" her dad offered.

"Sure!" she said, and reached a hand to Dean. "Come on," she added when she saw he was not taking the offered hand, "there's plenty of place for hide-and-seek."

The boy looked up to his father, who nodded shortly, before taking the hand and letting Hermione lead them outside.

"Wow," he said when he saw all the cars.

"Like I said," Hermione repeated, "plenty of places to hide."

"I was talking about the cars," Dean mumbled, and Hermione laughed.

"I wasn't," she said. "Do you want to play?"

He looked at his brother cautiously. "Sammy's not old enough for hide-and-seek," he said.

Hermione thought for a moment. "What if you two play together against me?" she offered. "That way, all three of us can enjoy the game."

"Okay," Dean replied. "You count first."

"You've got until ten!" she warned before turning around and closing her eyes.

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><p>"Cute kids you've got out there," Bobby told John as the three kids walked outside.<p>

"You too," John replied. "Does she know?"

"No," Bobby said with a frown. "Yours?"

"Dean does," John said, "but I'm trying to keep Sammy out of it if I can."

"Smart idea," Bobby said before taking two bottles of beer out of the refrigerator, one for himself and one for his guest. "You said you need help?"

"I'm hunting something I think might be a Rugaru not far from here," John explained, "and Rufus said you might be able to help me find information about this thing."

"I think I might have a book with Rugarus here somewhere," Bobby replied, walking to his library and pulling out a worn book. "You know, if the hunt is nearby, I don't mind watching your kids for a couple of days."

"You don't?" John asked, surprised.

"They seem like nice kids." Bobby shrugged. "And Mya seems to like 'em. It would be nice if she'd have friends to play with."

"If that's the case, I'll hit the road straight away," John said. "Do you mind if I'll take the book with me?"

"Not at all." Bobby replied. "Bring it back when you pick 'em up."

They walked outside just in time to hear Hermione's victory call.

"Found ya!" she said gleefully. "Your turn!"

"Boys," John said as he saw his sons running behind Hermione, "come here for a moment, would you?"

The boys came to their father and Hermione followed and stood beside them.

"Don't go yet!" she called sadly. "You only just arrived!"

"I gotta go," John said. "But I also have some good news." The three kids looked at him expectantly, though Sam didn't seem to realize what was happening around him. "Would you two like to stay here for a couple of days while I'm away?"

The three kids' eyes lit with excitement.

"Yes!" Dean called out happily and Sam nodded to agree. He wasn't sure who this girl was, but she seemed nice and she smiled a lot, and Dean seemed to like her.

"Really?" Hermione asked. "Can they, Daddy? Please?"

"Of course they can, Mya," Bobby told his daughter with a smile before turning to John. "Why don't you go help them get their stuff from the car while we get a room ready for them?"

John nodded and helped his kids bring their bags to one of the rooms upstairs, just next to Hermione's, before walking back to the Impala.

"Dad!" Dean called, running after him and not stopping until he was in front of the much taller man. "You'll be back, won't you?"

"Of course I will," John told his elder son.

"Will you…" Dean looked embarrassed for asking, but kept on anyway. "Will you be back before next Friday?"

"I'll do my best," John replied. "But just in case I'm not—" He took a present out of the back seat of the car "—happy early birthday, Dean."

The young boy's face lit with excitement as he opened the present his father handed to him, finding a small black toy-car.

"It's the Impala," his father explained. "I know it's not much but—"

"It's amazing," Dean said, giving his father a short hug before adding politely, "Thank you, sir."

"No problem, kiddo." John said, ruffling his hair. "Why don't you go back inside and play with your new friend?"

Dean ran back into the house happily, and John drove away. He did miss Dean's seventh birthday after all, but when he returned he found out that Hermione managed to somehow get Dean to tell her it was his birthday, and insisted they do something to celebrate it. There was even cake and all.

He also found out that despite the fact that every night the kids went to sleep in different rooms, every morning Bobby found them all curled up on Dean and Sam's bed.

This is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship, he thought to himself, and decided that from now on whenever he had a case nearby, he would leave the boys at Bobby's.

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><p><strong>R&amp;R!<strong>


	2. Truths Unravelled

**A/N:**** So I had a bit of extra time and saw all the nice reviews and the _ridiculus _amount of Favs and followers so I decided to treat you with a chapter. Hope you'd enjoy it. :)**

**Dixsclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Supernatural**

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><p>July 1991.<p>

"I'm a _what_?"

Hermione looked at the British woman in front of her, the one who'd introduced herself as Professor McGonagall from Hogwarts School of _Witchcraft and Wizardry_. The woman said that Hermione was a _witch_, as was she, and that she had been granted a place in the school since she was born.

"You're a witch, Miss Singer," Professor McGonagall replied calmly. "So was your mother, though neither of your grandparents nor your great-grandparents were. She attended Hogwarts herself, when she was your age."

Hermione turned to look at her father. "Did you know?" she asked him.

"I knew what your mother was," he admitted. "But I wasn't certain if you inherited it from her or not. Though I did suspect."

"And your speculations have been correct, Mr. Singer," Professor McGonagall replied, taking out an envelope out of her purse and handing it to Hermione. "Read it," she said.

Hermione looked at the envelope. In elegant, beautiful writing was written, "To Hermione Singer, Singer Salvage Yard, Sioux Falls, South Dakota".

She opened the letter and looked inside. There was a letter, addressed to her and written by the woman in front of her, who appeared to be the Deputy Headmistress of the school. The letter explained that she had been accepted to that school she had never heard of, and that response needed to be delivered by August 1st which was only a week from now.

"If you choose to accept your registration of the school, there is a list of supplies attached," Professor McGonagall said. "I will escort you tomorrow to Diagon Alley, where you would be able to purchase those items."

Hermione's eyes scanned the supplies list, before looking up at her father.

"I ain't gonna tell you what to do," he said. "It's your choice."

"I want to go," she decided. "I want to go to that… Hogwarts place."

"Very well, then," Professor McGonagall said. "I shall be here tomorrow morning."

"Wait!" Hermione called. "Dean and Sam should be here tomorrow."

"They're her friends," Bobby explained in return to the witch's questioning look. "They don't visit very often."

"If you'd like to go today, it can be done," the Professor replied.

"Yes!" Hermione called happily.

"In that case, we should leave immediately. There is much to do and very little time," she looked at the child's father. "I presume we will return here during the early afternoon hours, due to time-zone changes."

"No problem, ma'am," Bobby said and Hermione had to stifle a laugh at the politeness she hardly ever saw in her father.

He walked the two witches outside and the older one reached into her bag and pulled out what seemed to be an old shoe.

"On my count of three, touch it," she told the young girl. "One, two, three." And the women disappeared in a twirling of lights.

Bobby sighed as he walked back into the house. His little girl was growing up faster than he wanted her to. In his mind, she was still the toddler who wasn't even tall enough to climb the steps, or the six-year-old who cried when she scratched her knee and needed him. And now she was going to that boarding school in _Scotland_, of all places.

She made her choice, he reminded himself. He told her she could do whatever she wanted, and she picked the odd world her mother came from. He can either make that trip with her, or be cast out.

And he was _not_ about to be cast out.

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><p>Hermione sat on her bed, her feet crossed as she read into 'Hogwarts, A History', which she purchased the previous day during her trip to Diagon Alley with Professor McGonagall. The book was very interesting, and explained a great deal about the school she was about to attend, but as minutes passed by and she wondered when Sam and Dean would arrive, she couldn't concentrate.<p>

She picked up her wand from the small night stand in her room, observing it. Ten and three quarters inches, made of vine wood and containing a string from a dragon's heart. The wand chooses the magician, the old wand-maker had told her, and this wand chose her. What does it mean?

From the floor underneath her, she thought she could just make out Bobby's screams, presumably on the phone.

"You know I don't do cases far away!" he called. "I'm not gonna just leave Mya alone!" There was silence for a couple of seconds before he added, "I know you do it all the time but I'm not you!"

Hermione slowly returned to wand to where it previously was and walked out her room. Quietly, she got downstairs and stood at the door to her father's library.

"I know," he was just saying. "I know, John." He sighed. "Fine. But as soon as this is over I'm taking all three of them with me. Mya's starting a new school soon and God knows if they'll get another chance to see each other. I'll see ya there. Bye."

He hung up the call and sighed, taking a bottle of whiskey from one of the shelves and downing a glass.

"Dad?" she asked and he jumped at the sound of her voice.

"Hey, sweetie." He smiled warmly at her, the anger gone from his features. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard screams so I came downstairs," she said. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Bobby replied. "I've got this case I need to work on with John, we'll be driving there soon. Get your bag ready, you'll probably spend the night with the boys at the motel."

"Okay," she said and walked back to her room, stuffing clothes into a bag.

By the time she returned downstairs, Bobby had his own bag ready, and they were off to the road. It was a rather long drive but Bobby made sure she spent every moment she was awake entertained, even though she didn't bring any of her books.

They parked outside a trashy-looking motel and walked to one of the rooms. Bobby knocked and within seconds, John opened the door.

"Thanks for coming, Bobby," he said. "Come on, Mya, the boys are waiting."

"Mya!" two different voices called as she walked inside, and two sets of arms hugged her.

"Dean!" she called gleefully, hugging them back. "Sammy!"

"We need to get going," John said. "Boys, you know the drill."

"Don't open for anyone, don't leave the room and don't stay up too late," Dean recited and the adults left.

That night could have easily been the best night of her life so far. Dean and Sam ran jokes and played with her, they watched a movie and threw popcorn all over each other and when Sam fell asleep, Dean and Hermione stayed up for hours, doing nothing but talking.

"Dean?" she asked after a while, when they were both starting to drift off. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Mya," Dean said. "Anything."

"Our dads…" she started, and then paused. "Do our fathers…" she tried again, and this time it seemed to work slightly better. "Do our fathers hunt monsters?"

Dean thought for a moment. "You should probably ask your dad," he finally said.

"But I'm not asking him," she replied. "I'm asking you. And you _did_ say I can ask _anything_."

Dean sighed a sigh that was too old for an eleven-year-old to make.

"Yes," he said. "They hunt monsters."

She nodded, more to herself rather than to him as things started to make sense. "What do they hunt?" she questioned.

"All sorts," Dean said. "Vampires, werewolves, demons, and some monsters I've never even heard of!" he exclaimed. "Oh, and one time, my dad hunted a _witch_." Hermione's blood froze in her veins. "An actual _witch_! Can you believe it? He's a superhero. Hermione?" he asked, seeing as his friend wasn't listening any more. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," the girl lied. "Just tired."

"Me too…" Dean said, yawning. "Goodnight, Mya."

"Goodnight, Dean," she replied, but her mind was somewhere else.

Dean said his dad hunted witches. Did her father ever hunt a witch? Would they hunt her, now?

The questions swirled in her mind as sleep finally found her.

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><p>August 1991.<p>

Hermione pulled on the brave face. She laughed and played with Dean and Sam as if nothing was wrong, and didn't throw a second glance at her dad and John when she saw them.

Only a week later, when John took off with the boys again, she let herself break down.

At first, a shudder crossed through her body when she saw the Impala driving away. She knew there was no real reason to be scared of her father, but she still did. After the black car was out of sight, silent tears started dripping on Hermione's cheeks. Then, she started crying.

Bobby kneeled besides her, thinking she was crying because she had to say goodbye to her friends. He tried to calm her, telling her she would see them again, but it was no good. The child just kept weeping.

He took her in his arms and rocked her, whispering soothing words until she calmed down enough to tell him what happened.

"You hunt monsters!" she cried. "And Dean said that – that – that you hunt witche-e-es!"

Worry crossed the older man's face as he held his daughter in his arms.

"Not witches like you, Mya," he said. "Never witches like you. The witches I hunt are not natural witches – I made sure of that the moment I found out about your mother. The witches I hunt got their powers from demon deals, and they use it to hurt people. You," he repeated, trying to calm her down, "are not in any danger."

She sniffed her nose, taking ragged breaths and curling up on his chest until she calmed down. He slowly wiped the tears away from her face, kissing the top of her head.

"Could you tell me about Mom?" she asked.

He hesitated for a moment, but eventually decided to do whatever he had to help her stay relaxed. "Her name was Marlene," he said. "Marlene Rogers. I met her when I was sixteen and she came to visit some family who lived not far from here. I was seeing Karen at the time," he said, gesturing at one of the pictures in the room, "so I didn't gave her much thought, but I met her again on a hunt a couple of months after Karen died. She took the pain away. And I took some of hers, though I didn't know it at the time.

"When I found out what she was, I was mad." He remembered. "I screamed at her, told her I never wanted to see her again. A year later, she appeared here, holding you in her hands. She told me to take care of you and disappeared. Only then I started researching about wand-carrying witches and wizards."

"She's dead now, isn't she?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Bobby admitted. "But I know that in the little time she was with you, she loved you very much."

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><p><strong>Thank you to all of the reviewers, it means a lot to me!<strong>

**Canadian Harry Potter Fan: You were right on most of your guesses actually... Though Bobby's still gonna try to keep her a child as long as he can.**

**BrownEyesAngel: Sorry... It kinda is...**


	3. Hogwarts

**A/N:**** Chapter 3 is up, tell me how you like it!**

**By the way, I am shocked by the amount of love this story recieves, and I want to note out Winterburn3 for no reason other than the fact that you were the 100th (!) follower.**

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><p>September 1991.<p>

"Everything's ready?" Bobby asked Hermione as she hopped down the stairs.

"Yep," she replied.

"Did you eat something?"

"Burger leftovers," she said, hiding a yawn.

They were told that the Hogwarts Express would depart at eleven am, and that someone was to arrive and pick her up an hour before. Due to the time differences, that meant Hermione needed to be ready to leave by four am.

"Get some sleep on the train," her father said. "School starts tomorrow and I don't want you to be too tired."

"I will," she promised, and kissed Bobby's cheek.

They sat on his couch, waiting, when the flames in the fireplace suddenly became green. Both of them jumped to their feet as a tall woman walked out.

"I am Madam Edgecombe from the Ministry of Magic," she presented herself. "I will escort you to the train today, seeing as it is your first time of using the Floo Network."

"The Floo Network?" Bobby repeated, confused.

"Travel by fireplace," Madam Edgecombe explained, taking a small bag filled with green powder and handing it to Hermione. "Take some," she ordered, and when the girl obliged, she guided her to the fireplace once more. "You need to be calm. Relax before throwing the powder into the fire and clearly stating the name of your destination – in this case, King's Cross Station. Close your eyes, and keep your elbows tucked in. I will follow shortly after, with your luggage. Understood?"

The young girl nodded and did as she was told. She threw the powder at the fireplace, amazed to see the flames changing its color to green once more, and called clearly, "King's Cross Station!" as she walked inside.

The fire immediately swirled around her, sending her away until she fell outside of a fireplace in a small room. She got to her feet and dusted her clothes off just in time to see Madam Edgecombe following her, by far more elegantly. The older witch escorted her to the train station, and helped her through the barrier between platforms nine and ten, before departing and leaving Hermione on her own.

The young girl managed to upload her belongings onto the train thanks to the help of two nice ginger twins, and when she turned to thank them, their eyes opened wide.

"Look at this George!" one of them called.

"Did you hear what I heard, Fred?" the other asked.

"It appears that –"

"– we've found ourselves –"

"- an American!" they called together.

Blush started rising up on Hermione's face. "Hey," she said. "Nice to meet you, I'm Hermione Singer."

"Fred and George Weasley," one of the twins said.

"I'm George, that's Fred," the other said.

"You can tell the difference because I'm the handsome one," Fred winked and she rolled her eyes.

"I need to go find myself a car," she said. "Thank you again."

"Did you hear that, Fred?" George asked. "Cars instead of coaches. She even speaks American and all!"

Hermione laughed and left the twins to themselves, settling down in a car. Or a _coach_, whatever they call it over here. She took out one of her books and kept reading. It was the last book for her to read and she wanted to finish it all before the first day of school. She started drifting off when the car's door opened.

"Hello," a chubby boy said. "Did you happen to see a toad?"

"No, sorry," she said. "Do you want me to help you search?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically and she returned the book to her bag and got up.

"You're American," he noted.

"And I have a lot more to me than just that," she laughed. "Hermione Singer, nice to meet ya."

"I'm Neville," the boy said. "Neville Longbottom."

They decided to split up across the train in order to cover more _coaches_ and Hermione started her journey. At some cars, they completely ignored her, some were nice enough to reply that they hadn't seen any frog, and on one of her last, she saw two boys around her age.

"Has anyone seen a toad?" she asked. "Neville's lost one."

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," one of them, who was ginger like the two who helped her, said rudely but she'd already lost concentration.

"Oh, are you doing magic?" she called, exited at the sight of his wand. "Let's see it, then."

She sat down and looked at the boy, who appeared to be a bit taken aback.

"Er – all right." He cleared his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow." He waved his wand, but nothing happened.

Hermione waited a second or two, checking that nothing was happening before asking, "Are you sure that's a real spell?" she asked, feeling slightly sorry for the boy. "It's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me." She was speaking very fast, as she always did when she was nervous. Dean used to laugh at her about it, and she usually joined in on the laugh but she was too stressed now. "Nobody in my family's magic at all, I mean, my mom was, but her family wasn't, and I never met her growing up. It was a real surprise when I got my letter, but 'course I was so happy, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learned all our course books by heart, I just hope it will be enough." She swallowed nervously. "I'm Hermione Singer, by the way, and you are?"

"I'm Ron Weasley," the ginger said.

"I think I've met your brothers," Hermione said with a smile.

"Harry Potter," the other one said and before she could stop herself, her eyes darted to his forehead, where his signature scar was.

"You're Harry Potter?" she asked. "I know all about you! Bought a couple of extra books, for background reading and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century!" She stopped herself from speaking further. If Dean saw the way she was rambling, he'd laugh at her for the rest of her life.

"Am I?" Harry asked.

"Don't you know?" she found herself saying despite her best efforts. "I'd find out everything I could if it were me. Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking 'round, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds the best by far, though I wonder what house my mom was in…" She trailed off for a moment, just long enough for Neville to mutter something about finding the toad and she sighed in relief that someone stopped her from talking any more.

They covered the rest of the train, together this time, but had no luck at finding the toad. When they finished their tour of the Hogwarts Express, Hermione sat back in her compartment and picked up her book.

"That," she muttered to herself, "was _so_ embarrassing."

* * *

><p>"Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."<p>

They were left on their own for about ten minutes now, and the tension was building rapidly. There was no information whatsoever about the Sorting Ceremony, and she had no idea what to expect.

"Now, form a line and follow me," Professor McGonagall ordered and the first years obliged.

They walked back across the entrance hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall, where everybody's attention seemed to be on them. Hermione never did liked being at the center of the attention. From her experience, it usually ended with someone making fun out of her, with the exception being Sam and Dean, of course.

She sighed nervously. What wouldn't she give to have them here with her? During the past five years, Sam became something of a younger brother to her, and Dean was now her best friend. Trying to distract herself from thoughts about her friends, Hermione watched the ceiling.

"It's charmed to look like the sky outside," she provided, more to herself more than to anybody else. "I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

Nobody responded so Hermione followed the other students' gazes to the front of the room, where a ragged hat was place on a stool. To her surprise, the hat opened its "mouth", and sang:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, / But don't judge on what you see,  
>I'll eat myself if you can find  A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black, / Your top hats sleek and tall,  
>For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head / The Sorting Hat can't see,  
>So try me on and I will tell you  Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor, / Where dwell the brave at heart,  
>Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  Set Gryffindors apart.

You might belong in Hufflepuff, / Where they are just and loyal,  
>Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  And unafraid of toil.

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, / If you've a ready mind,  
>Where those of wit and learning,  Will always find their kind.

Or perhaps in Slytherin / You'll make your real friends,  
>Those cunning folk use any means  To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid! / And don't get in a flap!  
>You're in safe hands (though I have none)  for I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The Great Hall burst into applause and Hermione joined in, relieved. A Hat. She can put on a Hat.

Professor McGonagall started reading the names in an alphabetical order, and every student whose name she read walked forward and put the Hat on.

Some of them got sorted the moment the Hat touched their heads, while others sat on the stool for a couple of seconds. For them it must've felt like _years_.

When Harry's turn arrived, the Hat remained on his head for nearly a minute before he was sorted to Gryffindor, causing the entire table to roar happily. It wasn't long after, that her own turn arrived and she walked to the stool with what she hoped at least seemed like confidence. The Hat was placed over her head, blocking her view of the rest of the hall as it started talking again.

"My, my," the Hat said, "what do we have here? The daughter of a Hunter and a Witch? How did _that_ happened?" It chuckled to itself but must've sensed Hermione's wrecked nerves because it returned to "Business Mode". "I see many things in here. Clever and eager for knowledge. You'd make a fine Ravenclaw. But there are so many things you already know… too much for such a young girl but you seem to be taking it pretty well. I think you've proved to have earned being a GRYFFINDOR!"

The Hat called the last word aloud and Professor McGonagall took it off Hermione's head, smiling at her as she made her way to the Gryffindor table and sat between Neville and yet another ginger.

"Percy Weasley," the ginger introduced himself. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," she replied with a smile, causing him to raise his brow.

"You're American," he said.

The smile drifted off her face and she turned around to keep watching the Sorting. Ron Weasley was also sorted into Gryffindor, along with a boy named Dean Thomas.

The name reminded her of home, where people spoke in a way she understood and nobody felt the need to remind her she was American, as the people here seemed to be doing.

Get yourself together! she ordered herself. The term hasn't even started, you can't let yourself get homesick.

When the Sorting ended, Professor McGonagall took the stool and the Hat away. The man who sat in the middle of the table and whom she recognized as Albus Dumbledore, stood up and caught everyone's attention.

"Welcome," he called in a calm, confident voice. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet –" Hermione needed to remember to check what that word meant "–I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat down as food appeared on the table, and it took Hermione a moment to overcome the shock and start filling her plate.

When she was done, she asked Percy about the classes and they got carried into a discussion about Transfiguration ("Professor McGonagall's a tough teacher – but she's also fair."), Charms ("I tried the Levitation Spell at home and nearly got it, but got so excited about it that I dropped the book I was levitating...") and Potions ("Make sure to come prepared. Snape doesn't like Gryffindors and doesn't bother hiding it, so don't give him any excuses.").

When desserts arrived, she also joined the first years' conversation about their families.

"I'm half-and-half," a boy named Seamus said. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mum didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

"My gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced – all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad," he finished and everybody laughed.

"My dad left my mum when I was a baby," the boy named Dean provided. "Mum's a Muggle but I don't know if he was a wizard. How 'bout you, Curls?" he asked Hermione who blushed at the nickname.

"Muggle dad, but mom was a Muggle-Born Witch," she replied. "She died when I was a baby, so I grew up as a Muggle. Only found out when I got my letter." She stopped talking when she saw everybody gaping at her. "What?" she asked.

"You're American," Dean said.

"And everybody here seems to think I don't know that," Hermione replied. "I'm American, so what?"

"So," Seamus said, "what're you doing here? Shouldn't you be attending Salem?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "They never spoke to me, so I just assumed I'll go here. Was born in Britain, so maybe that's the reason."

"Maybe," the group agreed and the conversation went on until the feast was over and they all went to the Gryffindor tower and settled in their rooms. Hermione wrote a letter to Bobby and reminded herself to go to the Owlery the next morning to send it.

Drifting to sleep, she thought to herself that this was gonna be a _very_ interesting year.


	4. Holidays

October 1991.

If Hermione thought even for one moment that Wizarding School would be nothing like regular school, she found herself mistaken very quickly.

Of course, the studying itself was very different as they studied subjects like Potions and History of Magic instead of Chemistry and regular History, and the whole structure of the school as a boarding school was nothing like her old school in Sioux Falls, but some things were at every school.

As she found out, bullies were one of them.

It wasn't the Slytherins who laughed at her hair, teeth and accent. She was used to this kind of bullies and knew how to ignore them very quickly. It was the ones who seemed nice that hurt her the most.

It all started in Charms class, morning of Halloween. They were put into pairs to practice the levitation spell, and Hermione was so excited about it, because she had already tried the spell a couple of times and nearly mastered it before school even started. She was paired with Ron, and when she heard him pronounce the spell wrong, she corrected it because it was a mistake she herself had made the same mistake first couple of times.

"You're saying it wrong," she told him. "It's Wing-_gar_-dium Levi-_o_-sa, make the _'gar'_ nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," he snapped at her.

She raised her wand and cast the spell as she did many times before. "Wingardium Leviosa!" she called, causing the feather to rise above their desk.

"Oh, well done!" Professor Flitwick called. "Everyone see here, Miss Singer's done it!"

Hermione looked down in shame at the table. She felt bad for embarrassing Ron like that, but there was nothing she could do about it now. When the lesson was over, she gathered her stuff and exited the class behind Ron and Harry. When they were out of any teacher's reach, she heard Ron mumbling in anger.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said. "She's a nightmare, honestly."

Hermione felt like daggers were cutting into her heart. She didn't have many friends at Hogwarts – none at all, actually – but to hear him say that no one liked her still hurt. Tears started streaming down her cheeks and she hurried towards the bathroom, accidently bumping into Harry as she did.

She closed herself inside one of the cells, crying over this odd school where she felt like she didn't belong, the homesickness that was getting harder with every day that passed and missing her only true friend, who was now miles away in America, probably watching over Sammy while John was on a hunt.

"Hermione?" she heard a familiar voice calling. "It's Parvati. Are you alright?"

"Just leave me alone!" she called through her tears. "I just wanna go home! What am I even doing here?"

Eventually, Parvaty left, but Hermione stayed, crying until she ran out of tears and then sobbing dryly even more. She wasn't sure what time it was, but was fairly certain that she was missing the Halloween dinner.

At home, Bobby used to escort her in trick-or-treating. He was afraid that she might get hurt, and was reluctant to let her stay outside so late, but the joy he saw on her face was worth it all, so he allowed that. Since Singer's Salvage Yard was distant from any other house, he used to take her out to the city of Sioux Falls, where she ran from door to door while he waited nearby.

When she was nine, Dean and Sam were staying at Bobby's for Halloween, and she made a great deal of picking their costumes and helping them get dressed. Sam was the cutest biker anyone had ever seen, Dean was a Cowboy and Hermione dressed like a fairy. After the hunt for treats was over, they poured it all on the bed in the boys' room, and shared the sweets between them all.

The memory brought a sad smile to her face, and she walked out of the bathroom door to wash her face. As she neared the mirror, she noticed a figure standing not far behind her, and shrieked as she recognized it from one of her books.

"Hermione!" she could hear two voices calling at once, but was too scared to pay attention.

She backed away from it, sticking to the opposite wall just as the door opened and Harry and Ron ran inside. Harry threw something on one of the walls, causing the troll to stop a few feet from Hermione and look around. When it saw Harry, it headed towards him but stopped again when Ron threw a metal pipe at it.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at her as he pulled her toward the door, but she was so petrified she couldn't move. Hell of a Gryffindor was she.

They kept throwing things at the troll, confusing him and causing him to change his target time after time, until Ron shouted, "Wingardium Leviosa!" and the troll's club fell on his head.

Hermione came to her senses, walking towards them and arriving just in time to see Harry taking his wand out of the troll's nose, where he stuck it earlier.

"I told you," she mumbled towards Ron. "Not such a difficult spell if you pronounce it as you should."

They stood there for a moment before they heard footsteps rushing towards them, and the bathroom door opened to reveal Professors McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell. Already used to lying to the authorities for her dad from time to time, Hermione invented a cover story which caused McGonagall to take five points away from Gryffindor for her behavior, but to add ten for Harry and Ron's rescue.

After the story was covered and they were back to Gryffindor tower, Hermione decided that maybe this school wasn't so bad after all. Especially now that she had finally made her first friends here.

* * *

><p>December 1991.<p>

Dean and Hermione fell on the couch in Bobby's house that evening, after running and playing outside all afternoon long. It has been four days since Hermione arrived home for Christmas, and nearly a week since John left the boys at Bobby's house while he went on a hunt a couple of towns over.

Hermione, Dean and Sam enjoyed their reunion, though the boys presence made it significantly more complicated for Hermione to arrive back home. Instead of using the Floo Network, she had to use Portkey to arrive at the magical transportation station nearest her house and Bobby had to pick her up from there.

"I'm so tired," Hermione said.

"Me too," Dean agreed.

"What were you two doing?" Bobby asked them with a smile.

"We raced to the tree-line and back," Hermione said.

Bobby's smile drifted off his face. "How many times I told you two to stay away from the woods?" he asked severely. "You know how dangerous it is!" His voice dropped to a whisper so that Sam, who was doing his homework in the kitchen, wouldn't hear. "You know what's out there."

"Sorry, daddy," Hermione whispered, looking down in shame.

"Sorry, Uncle Bobby," Dean muttered.

"It's alright," Bobby said, "just make sure it's the last time, will ya?" The kids nodded. "Help me set up the table, then."

They set up the small table for four people, and Dean had just gone upstairs to call Sammy out from the shower when Hermione remembered a question she'd wanted to ask her father, but forgotten.

"Daddy," she started, "have you ever heard of a man named Nicolas Flamel? I saw the name while reading, and it sounded familiar but I don't know where from."

"The name doesn't ring any bells," Bobby replied, "but I'll look into it, and let you know if anything pops up."

The boys came back downstairs and they all sat down for dinner, after which Bobby insisted they would all go to sleep. The trio laid on Sam and Dean's bed, and fell asleep right away.

The next morning, the three kids woke up to the realization that it's Christmas morning. They jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, where a pile of presents was placed.

"Come on," Bobby said. "Open 'em up."

"Shouldn't we wait for dad?" Dean asked.

"Your dad's not gonna make it this year, boys." Just like last year, Bobby thought but didn't say it. "He did buy you some presents. Open them first." he added and handed over two boxes.

The boys opened the presents to find a plastic gun for Dean and a new book for Sam, both of which Hermione was certain she saw around the house already during the summer, when she was at home before going to Hogwarts. In addition, they got a couple of new toys from Bobby, and two boxes of Every Flavor Beans from Hermione, one for each.

"Are they really every flavor?" Dean asked and Hermione nodded.

"I ate a dirt-flavored one on my first try." She giggled and the boys tasted.

"Strawberry!" Sam called happily.

"Ugh," Dean said with a smile. "I think this one's ear wax. Thanks, Mya."

"Sure," she replied and moved to open her own presents. She got some sweets from 'John', a book from her dad and a hand-made card from Sam before she noticed two more presents, addressed to her and with small cards.

The first one was from Ron. Or, at least, Ron's mother. "I wasn't sure how many presents you will get," the note said, "and the way I know my son, he probably didn't buy you anything so I made you some homemade fudge."

"Who's that from?" Bobby asked.

"Ron's mom," Hermione replied, smiling.

"Who's Ron?" Dean asked.

"One of my friends at the new school," she said. "That means the other one must be from Harry!"

The note on the second package was a simple one, saying "Merry Christmas" and wishing her a happy holiday. Inside was a beautiful ostrich-feather quill Hermione knew she'd use to write him a reply.

She stood up, ready to go and write it immediately, but was disturbed by Dean who cleared his throat.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked, handing her a poorly wrapped box.

She took it and slowly opened it up, finding the small, black car his father had given him for his birthday nearly five years ago.

"I know you're all far away in Scotland and probably missing us, so I thought this would remind you of us when we're not there," he said shyly and Hermione jumped at him with a hug.

Out of all the presents she got that Christmas, Dean's present was the one she cherished most.


	5. Summer

**A/N:**** Sorry for the little delay but hey, the new chapter is here!**

**Thank you again so much for all your love, you have _no _idea how much I appreciate it!**

**Dark Balance - You said you're borrowing someone else's data, but I still wanted to say: I always felt kinda bad for how Harry and Ron treated Hermione before they all became friends (And sometimes afterwards) and it was very important to pass all those feelings, because they were really unfair towards her. So I'm just glad you liked it :)**

* * *

><p>June 1992.<p>

Hermione sighed as she fell on the bed in her room at Bobby's house. The last few days of the school year were tiring and intense, and she was starting to get homesick from being so far away for so long. It was nice to be back where people were speaking normally.

As she laid down on the bed, she couldn't help but think about the adventure she'd been through. Playing flute to a three-headed dog, saving Harry and Ron from the Devil's Trap plant, seeing Ron being knocked unconsciousness and trying to decipher the riddle to make sure neither her nor Harry are poisoned before having to leave him alone to fight Quirrell.

Obviously, she couldn't tell anybody about it – Dean and Sam because she will have to reveal the fact that she's magic and her father because he will never let her back to Hogwarts if he knew. But it didn't change the fact that it was _fun_.

She knew she shouldn't think that – they could've been killed – but there was something about it she couldn't help but love. The adrenaline flowing through her veins, the excitement at solving the riddle. The only part that made her feel odd was Dumbledore telling the entire school about it, and everyone watching her with awe. She still _hated_ being at the center of attention.

She leaned against her pillow and just closed her eyes when the door burst open and someone jumped on her.

"You're back!" Dean called, squishing her into a hug and not even letting her get up, return it or breathe.

"Mya!" Sam called, jumping on top of Dean and making her fear for her bed.

"Help!" she called back, her voice hoarse. "Can't… breathe…"

"Sorry!" Dean said, getting off her and dropping Sam to the floor as he did. "How are you?"

"Much better now," Hermione replied with a smile.

"I know," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Seeing me just has that effect on people."

"I think she meant better now that she's at home," Sam noted, and Dean smacked him over the head.

Hermione smacked Dean in return, Sam stick out his tongue and soon enough the three kids were rolling in a bundle of arms and feet on Hermione's bed. They were interrupted by Bobby's voice calling from downstairs.

"Dinner's ready!"

Hermione and Sam exchanged mischievous looks, and as if on cue, they jumped to their feet and ran downstairs, leaving Dean alone in Hermione's room.

"Thanks a lot for waiting!" he told them when he was downstairs.

"You're welcome," Hermione replied innocently and sat at the table.

They ate in full set that night. Not only were the boys there, but it was also one of those rare occasions when John joined the meal.

Even though as she grew up, Hermione liked John less and less, seeing the way he treated his children as if they were soldiers rather than kids, she also saw the way Sam smiled a bit brighter and Dean sat a bit taller when he was there. They adored him, and loved him, and the feeling was clearly mutual. For their sake, Hermione put up with John on the rare occasions he was there.

For Sam and Dean's sake, Hermione would put up with _anybody_.

"So how's your fancy school in Scotland?" John asked. His tone wasn't unfriendly, but she couldn't fail to notice the coldness in it.

By the looks of it, Bobby didn't fail to notice it, either.

"The school is fine," she said politely. "It's really interesting, I'm learning loads of new things."

Dean chuckled lightly. "Only you and Sam can be excited about _learning_," he said, stretching the final word and making it sound like something bad.

"Oh, hush," she laughed. "It really is exciting."

"What do you learn?" Sam asked.

"Well…" Hermione thought for a moment, before phrasing her reply in a way that would not tell the boys the truth of her being a witch. "I'm learning a lot about chemistry," she said, thinking that Potions and Chemistry aren't all that different. "And plants." Yup, Herbology counts as learning about plants. "And many other interesting things."

"I'm glad you like it," John said, more kindly this time.

"How was your year?" she asked Dean.

"Loads of fun," he said. "Dad said I could join him on one of his –" he looked at Sammy carefully, "business trips in a couple of months."

"Really?" she asked, excited for him. "Oh, I'm so happy for you. I know how long you've wanted it."

John sent her an approving glance while Bobby huffed in disagreement. If someone knew anything about them, they could clearly see the matter was already up for discussion, and that the two men had extremely different opinions about it.

Hermione knew both of them a lot, so she changed the matter on hand by asking Sammy how's he doing at school. The kid happily started rambling about second grade Math classes, and the look on Bobby's face softened.

She knew how to say just the right things, he thought, and felt a ping of sadness as he remembered once again how much like her mother she was.

* * *

><p>August 1992.<p>

"Remember," Hermione told her father, "Ron's family are all magical, so they don't know much about muggle life. So if –"

"– any of them asks me 'bout electricity, I should be nice." He completed the sentence she told him a thousand times already. "I know, Mya. Relax."

"Okay." She said, preparing the small bag of Floo powder she'd received at the end of the previous year. "Here goes nothing."

She stepped into the fire, clearly calling 'Diagon Alley' and swirling inside the flames until she reached her destination. She dusted her clothes and turned to help Bobby out of the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron.

"We should go to Gringotts first," she said. "We could exchange some of our money to Wizard currency and then we'll go buy me some books.

He nodded, feeling certain she knew what to do better than him as he took in the place around them.

It was extraordinary. All of those people, who shared the same gift as Mya and Mar, and nobody looked twice about it. If anything, more people looked at him in curiosity, and he thought that non-magical were probably just as rare here as wizards and witches were in the world he knew.

They walked through the main street, and he tried not to stare too long at any of the shops, before they reached the fanciest building Bobby had ever seen.

"Gringotts," Hermione clarified, and he tore his eyes from the building only to look at her.

"That's…" he mumbled.

"I know," she said with a smile.

She walked with him to one of the counters but got bored rather easily, so she walked outside, leaving him to talk alone with the goblin.

Friggin' _goblins_.

It wasn't long after he finished exchanging the money and looking around for Hermione, that she ran back inside, accompanied by what appeared to be a pack of redheads and a black haired boy with glasses.

"Daddy, I want you to meet Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, two friends of mine from school," she said. "Ron, Harry, this is Bobby, my dad."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Harry said politely.

"Nice to meet you," Ron added. He looked as if he was trying not to stare at Bobby just as much as Bobby tried not to stare at everything else.

The introduction, however, was cut off by who seemed to be Ron's father.

"But you're a Muggle!" he called delightedly. "We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing Muggle money. Molly, look!" he told his wife, who sighed heavily and sent Bobby an apologetic look as she led them all towards one of the back doors.

"Meet you back here," Ron said, and Hermione was left alone with her father once more.

"They're going down to the vaults," she said. "That's where most wizards keep their money. There's a whole area underground, where thousands of vaults are connected by rails."

She kept talking about the vaults underneath London, but Bobby was only half listening. He was so amazed by everything he was being introduced to, and thought of how different it was than what he imagined so far.

Once the Weasleys were back outside, Hermione stopped her lecture. She went to speak to her two friends, and Bobby smiled softly at seeing how belonged she seemed, before he was interrupted by Mr. Weasley, who insisted on them going for a drink.

"We're only to meet the rest in an hour at Flourish and Blotts," he said, causing Bobby to look at his daughter, confused.

"The bookstore!" she said excitedly, and Bobby smiled once again.

"Are you sure it's okay with you, Mya?" he asked.

"No problem!" she said, waving him off and heading out with her friends.

"So," Mr. Weasley said, "you're a Muggle!"

"Er…" Bobby said hastily, not sure how to respond, before Mr. Weasley cut him off.

"I don't know where to even start!" he called. "There's so much I want to ask you! What do you do for a living?"

"I'm an engineer," Bobby lied. "Works with cars and stuff."

"How fascinating," Mr. Weasley said. "I have a car myself," he told him proudly. "Of course, I made a few small changes. Enlarged its insides, made it fly, the whole deal."

"Fly?" Bobby repeated.

"Oh, yes." Mr. Weasley said. "My wife wasn't so happy about it, to be honest, but what can I say?"

"Er…"

"How did you get here?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"I think it's called, 'The Floo Network'?" Bobby asked uncertainly.

"Oh, you Flooed?" he asked. "Where are you from?"

Bobby felt more and more like this was an interrogation, but he knew it was only curiosity speaking, and he promised Hermione he'd be nice. At least nobody asked him about _electricity_.

"We live in Sioux Falls," he said. "It's a small town in South Dakota. We'll probably head back there soon, an old friend of mine should be dropping by and I keep getting confused by the time differences."

"Oh, yes, we really should head back to Flourish and Blotts," Mr. Weasley said, glancing at his watch. "Been a real pleasure talking to you, Mr. Singer."

"Likewise." Bobby said politely, and the duo headed back into the alley and towards the bookstore.

* * *

><p>Bobby and Hermione walked out of the fireplace and into their living room, talking and laughing.<p>

"I really can't believe Mr. Weasley punched him!" Hermione called out, smiling.

"Me neither," Bobby said. "He didn't look like he had it in him."

"I guess you should never judge by first impression," she told him, and he smiled at her.

They were both interrupted by a cough from the doorway. Bobby looked up to see Rufus standing there.

"Go to your room," he told Hermione.

"No," Rufus said dangerously. "Stay."

"Room," Bobby repeated, eyeing the other hunter carefully. "Now."

Hermione didn't need to be told again. Not looking back, she ran upstairs and locked herself in her room, before putting her ear at the floor and trying to eavesdrop.

"You're early," Bobby said.

"Finished the case sooner than I'd thought," Rufus said. "I called to tell you, but you weren't available." He eyed Bobby for a moment. "Anything you'd like to tell me?"

Bobby sighed. "Please, hear me out," he said. "Ever heard of wand-carrying witches and wizards?"

"Urban legend," Rufus said.

"Well, most people call ghosts and vamps urban legends, too," Bobby said. "Doesn't make them any less real."

"Come on," Rufus said. "You want me to believe that there are natural born witches out there?"

"I didn't believe it, too," Bobby told him. "But that little girl upstairs grew up here. I've known her since she was four months old. And, no, she didn't sell her soul for her magic. It just appeared."

"Bull."

"She's twelve years old," Bobby said. "She grew up under this roof. Do you really think I'd let it happen to her? Do you really think I'd keep a witch in my house if she was one of those demon bitches?"

"People do crazy things for their kids," Rufus insisted.

"You've known her since before she could remember," Bobby said. "You helped me raise her, for crying out loud. Look me in the eye and tell me you believe she'd do something like that."

The two hunters looked at each other for a moment, but Rufus was the first to look away, silently.

"Didn't think you could," Bobby mumbled.

"Is her power under control?" Rufus questioned.

"Remember that school she's attending in Scotland?" Bobby asked. "Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. There's a whole community of them, there."

Rufus nodded shortly, before looking up at the ceiling. "You can come downstairs now, Mya!" he called.

The young girl walked downstairs hastily, and stood behind her father as she eyed the other man.

"Aren't you gonna give your Uncle Rufus a hug?" he asked. "Maybe later you could even tell me about that school of yours."

Hermione's eyes shone with excitement as she ran towards Rufus and launched herself on his neck. Behind her, the two hunters exchanged understanding looks, coming to the decision Hermione's status as a witch should stay a secret.

Hunters are too well known for shooting first and not asking questions later.


	6. Changes

**A/N:**** So sorry for not uplaoding... I have this big test coming and didn't have time to write and then to upload.**

**Thank you very much for all of those who are sticking with me and I want to note akirakurosawa for no reason other than being the 200th (!) follower for this story, and to thank again for Jay Nice for being my beta.**

**Here you go with getting Hermione a little bit more into hunting and some Dean/Hermione cuteness!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter (Sigh)**

* * *

><p>July 1993.<p>

That year was by far the weirdest, scariest, _worst_ year in Hermione's life. And being the daughter of a hunter, that means something.

It wasn't even the whole danger in school – although that did play a big part – it was the months she spent petrified. Most people didn't understand, but she was awake all that time. Unable to speak, to respond or to sleep, just spending hours glaring into air and hearing the conversations around you.

So when she got off the Hogwarts Express and saw Bobby waiting for her at the station, she didn't even think, only ran to him and hugged him.

"Hey, kiddo," he laughed. "I'm excited to see you, too. What's that for?"

"I just missed you," she said, trying very hard not to burst into tears in front of him, her friends and the Weasleys.

"I missed you, too," he told her. "You didn't write to me since around March!"

"Sorry," she said. "Got caught up at school work, it just skipped my mind."

A small, insignificant lie. Of course that wasn't the real reason she didn't write to him, and of course she didn't forget about him while she was petrified.

But she couldn't let him know the real reason because he might not allow her to return to Hogwarts next year, and she couldn't let that happen.

She also couldn't let herself be so helpless again. She knew she needed to learn how to protect herself, how to protect Harry, Ron, and anyone who might pass by.

So after a couple of days back home, after she thought about it thoroughly and reached her decision, she found herself standing at the kitchen in her house, waiting for her father to notice she was there.

"Hey, Mya," he smiled when he saw her. "D'you need anything?"

"No," she said. "Well, yes. Well, no. I need to ask you something."

"Okay," Bobby said, wary of his daughter's behavior. "What is it?"

"Can-you-teach-me-to-hunt?"

"What?" Bobby asked.

"I…" Hermione took a deep breath. "I want you to teach me how to hunt."

Bobby frowned. Where is that coming from?

"I wanna know how to hunt," she said. "Dean's my age and he's hunting, and even Sammy knows about the world now."

She was serious, he realized. She was really asking this. "No."

"Dad!" she called out.

"No way," Bobby insisted. "You will not be a hunter."

"I don't want to _be_ a hunter," she said. "I just want to know how to hunt. For protection, daddy. I promise I won't be a hunter."

"I don't like it," he growled.

"But can you please do it? For me?" she pouted, looking at him with big, round eyes.

"Damn it," Bobby mumbled, causing Hermione to squeal with joy.

"Thank you!" she called, hugging him. "You're the best! Oh, and can I have a cat?"

Bobby sighed into the hug. He wanted to keep her away from this life for as long as he could – possibly even forever – but now he had no other choice. All that was left to do was hope she would be okay.

And what the hell was that cat thing?

During the course of the next couple of weeks, Bobby trained Hermione.

She spent hours memorizing books upon books about monsters, and then hours answering Bobby's questions about everything that bumped in the night. She compared notes between Bobby's books and her schoolbooks, and her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay doubled its length.

But after they were done with the theory, Bobby had no choice other than to start physical trainings. She went on a jog each day on the main road between the salvage yard and the town, practiced at throwing knives and hitting targets, and one day, Bobby arranged a surprise for her.

She was sitting in her room, rereading her Transfiguration essay to make sure she didn't miss anything, when a voice called out.

"Guess who's here!" it said.

"Dean!" she squealed, running downstairs and jumping on her best friend.

"Hey, Mya!" he said, smiling and returning the hug as he sank into the familiarity of this one constant in his life.

Living on the road, constantly changing schools and never knowing how long he would stay at one place, Dean didn't allow himself to get attached to people. His father and Sammy were the exceptions of that rule, along with Bobby whenever they passed by and Hermione during the holidays.

He knew she had those new friends at the new school, and that she might not consider him her best friend any more, but he knew that as long as the promised summer vacation at Bobby's house was there, she would be his.

He had nobody else.

"Guess what we are doing today," he told her, smiling.

"I'm not sure if we can go away," she said worryingly. "Daddy said that I will learn how to use a gun today."

"That I did," Bobby said, smiling at the due from the doorway. "And guess who your teacher will be?"

"No way!" she called out in excitement, looking at Dean's smug face. "Really?"

"Really!" he told her, taking her hand and running outside. "Come on!"

The two young teenagers ran outside, and Bobby took a moment to observe the way Dean was looking at Hermione. The boy was already fourteen, and Hermione will be, too, in September. The both of them would start noticing the other gender members soon enough, and when they will, how long would it be before they noticed each other?

He sighed as he shook his head and went back inside, where a very upset, hurt ten-year-old Sam was sitting at the table and refusing to speak to anybody.

* * *

><p>When Dean finished teaching Hermione how to handle a weapon – something he has been doing for years already – and the two of them were done with hitting empty beer bottles they set on the cars, they decided to go back inside.<p>

All it took was one look on their smiling faces for Sam to run upstairs without as much as saying 'hello' to Hermione, whom he hadn't seen in a year.

"What happened to Sammy?" she asked Dean.

"He found out the truth about what dad was doing," Dean replied. "He's mad that we kept it a secret from him all this time. He hasn't said a word to either of us in weeks."

"We came here because I thought Bobby might be able to cool him down," John said in frustration. "It doesn't seem to be working so far."

"Do you mind if I go and talk to him?" Hermione asked.

"Go ahead," John said. "He's probably in the boys' room."

Hermione nodded and walked to the top floor, knocking on the door to the room where Dean and Sam slept whenever they were visiting.

"Go away," said a grumpy voice from inside.

"Must I?" she asked in her best British accent. "But, dear me, I was hoping so bad you can help me, my dear lad!"

Sam opened the door, shock clear in his features. "Mya?" he asked. "What happened to you?"

"Well, it all started during the school year," she told him. "I had the British Flu."

"The British Flu?" the younger boy asked.

"Well, of course, my dear," she said, dead serious. "It's like a normal flu, only instead of making you ill, it's making you British! Our school nurse had managed to stop it before it came to its full affects, but it was still very severe."

"It could have been worse?" Sam asked.

"If she hadn't cured it in time, I would have gone full on Mary Poppins!" Hermione exclaimed, before bursting into laughter.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Sam asked, distressed. "You didn't become British, did you? I don't want you to be Mary Poppins!"

"It's alright, Sammy," Hermione said, back to her normal accent. "I didn't get any British Flu."

"What?" he asked, angry. "Why did you lie to me?"

"Because you needed to understand that not all lies are bad," she replied calmly. "Your dad and brother didn't lie to you to hurt you. They lied to you to keep you safe for as long as they could."

"But they still did," he said.

"You think finding out when you're ten years old is bad?" she asked him. "I was nearly twelve when I found out. And it wasn't even my dad who told me – I found out from Dean."

"I did, too," he told her. "Dad didn't want to tell me, but Dean said I had a right to know."

"Of course you do," she said. "But how do you repay Dean for telling you the truth? Ignoring him! That's not very nice of you, now, is it?"

He frowned for a while longer. "You and Dean played without me today," he said.

"You wouldn't come outside," she retorted. "And besides, we didn't _play_. Dean was teaching me to use a gun."

Sam frowned. "Dad will probably want me to join you tomorrow," he said.

Hermione smiled mischievously. "Leave that to me."

* * *

><p>Dean couldn't tear his eyes off Hermione during the entire dinner. How she managed, in less than ten minutes, to do what he and his dad had failed to do in weeks was beyond him.<p>

Sam was speaking again – more than that, even. He was laughing and smiling and cooperative, until John suggested that maybe tomorrow he could Dean and Hermione at target practice.

Sam's face immediately fell.

"Actually," Hermione quickly said, "if you don't mind, I wanted to take Dean to the city tomorrow."

Dean's heart jumped in his chest. Hermione – his best friend, Mya – wanted to spend the whole day with him? That was just too good to let his father ruin.

"Could we?" he asked. "Please, Dad, could we?"

John looked at Bobby, who shrugged as if to say he didn't care, before he turned back to his elder son.

"You could teach Sammy another day," he said, and Dean nearly fell off his seat with joy.

"There are so many things I want you to see!" Hermione told him, excited. "There's this library – though you wouldn't enjoy there, I guess – and this place where they've got the best cheeseburgers you will ever eat, and…"

She kept saying all the places she wanted to take him, but Dean wasn't listening anymore. A foolish smile was stuck on his face as he just stared at Hermione, who was rattling on and on about this chocolate ice cream.

Neither of them knew it back then, but at that moment, Dean Winchester fell hopelessly in love with Hermione Singer.

* * *

><p><strong>So what do you think? Review and let me know!<strong>


	7. Back to School

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I didn't forget about you, I'm just swamped with my studies and my other story... I hope you'd like this and that I will post the next chapter soon.**

**By the way, _AmyRenee55_ - My 100th favorite. It's just amazing how much love I get for this story, it means a lot to me and I love you all back!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter (Sigh)**

* * *

><p>September – December 1993.<p>

Going back to school, Hermione now realized why Rufus was so wary of her, as well as why her father sent her mother away when he found out what she was.

With her new hunter perspective, everything – starting with the creatures they learned about in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures and ending with the ghosts that were _everywhere_ – seemed like a threat. And having a werewolf as her professor certainly didn't help.

It took her all of one month to recognize the symptoms of him being a werewolf. The way he was always ill and missing classes close to the full moon, and his Boggart turning not into a crystal ball as everyone thought, but into the moon at the night of a transformation. She had to admit that Lupin was an exceptionally good teacher, and after the task Professor Snape gave them, she had learned about the Wolfsbane Potion and came to the realization that Dumbledore must be making sure he's taking it.

She was less nervous about it than she thought she would be, but she still kept an eye on him, and had taken a habit of carrying a silver knife around. Can't be too careful, can you?

The beginning of that year was hard. After the events of the previous year, Hermione needed her friends by her side, but when her new cat, Crookshanks, did what every other cat would do and tried to hunt Scabbers – Ron's rat – her friends turned against her.

Things were getting worse by the day with the three of them, and she let herself sink into the work overload that came from taking more subjects than her timetable could fit. She used her time turner regularly, living nearly every day twice and sometimes even three times. She was exhausted to a level she didn't even know was possible, and was waiting impatiently to go back home for the Christmas break when a letter came in from her father.

_Mya,_

_I'm following a hunt with Rufus and it seems to be more complicated than we thought. Do you mind staying the break at Hogwarts?_

_Send answer when you can,_

_Love, Dad._

_PS – Sam and Dean told me to send you hugs._

She felt a sting of pain in her heart at the thought of staying in Gryffindor tower with nobody but Ron and Harry, but then thought about it as an opportunity to mend things with them. It surely couldn't get any worse than it already was.

How mistaken has she been.

The Firebolt – the _stupid_ Firebolt that someone sent Harry.

"Because I thought – and Professor McGonagall agrees with me – that the broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!" she justified her actions, unwilling to apologize.

She would never apologize for doing what she thought was best in order to keep those she loved safe.

Hermione busied herself in schoolwork yet again, thinking back to the beginning of her first year at Hogwarts. She didn't realize it, but she didn't really have any friends other than Harry and Ron. To the rest of their class, she was nothing but an annoying know-it-all.

So she comforted herself with that one last line in the letter, scribbled as an afterthought but meaning the world to her.

_Dean told me to send you hugs._

She didn't know what to think about Dean just yet. She cared a lot about him, but she wasn't certain if just as a friend or something more than that. Did he even like her as something more than that? She wasn't sure how anybody could.

She wasn't particularly pretty and her personality certainly wasn't the best, as her fellow students never failed to mention. Dean was constantly moving from town to town, he probably met dozens of other girls – prettier girls – and she wasn't a fool to think he would stop to think about her before dating another. Why would he? It wasn't as if something was going on between them. Did she want something to go on between them? Did he?

The thoughts swirled in her mind every night before she passed out from sheer exhaustion, if nothing else, and every night she came to the same conclusion.

I'm just fooling myself, she thought. Dean would never want me.

* * *

><p>June 1994.<p>

The last day of tests in Hermione's third year of Hogwarts was the most stressful day in a very stressful year.

Unlike her friends, who only had two exams that day, Hermione had had three, all at same hour, and she had to use her time turner to arrive to all of them. By the time she reached her DADA test, the last one she had, she was utterly exhausted.

Professor Lupin arranged an obstacle course for them, which consisted of fighting Grindylows, Red Caps and Hinkypunks and facing a Boggart.

She passed the first three obstacles without blinking before entering the box where the Boggart was waiting for her. She was nervous, seeing as she hadn't faced a Boggart before and couldn't guess what shape it would take. After a moment or two of silence, she saw someone approaching her.

Dean. That was odd. She wasn't scared of Dean, why would her Boggart take his form? But then she noticed that small detail that differed the Boggart from her real friend.

"Ri –" she stuttered. "Riddikulus!"

The Boggart hadn't as much as flinched. He was still walking towards her, only now her father accompanied him.

"Riddikulus?" she asked more than said, uncertain with herself, and suddenly Sam and John were heading in her direction, too. All four of them sporting pitch-black eyes.

Hermione did the first thing that came to her mind, dropping her wand and chanting verses in Latin to keep them away. All it did was make the Boggart laugh.

"We've got you now," Demon-Dean said.

"You've got nowhere to run," Demon-Bobby added.

"No!" she screamed. "No! Help me!"

And suddenly Professor Lupin was there, standing between her and the Boggart which now transferred into a silvery full moon. He helped her out to where Harry and Ron were waiting, worried.

"What happened?" Ron asked.

"P- P- Professor McGonagall," Hermione stuttered a lie. "Sh- She said I failed everything!"

Harry and Ron laughed at that but Lupin didn't, and though he didn't tell on her lie she could still feel his eyes on her back for the rest of the exam.

Later that day, they were inside the shrieking shack; Harry, Ron, herself, and Sirius Black.

Harry had just charged on Black, the older man overpowered him and held him by the throat. Hermione jumped at him, kicking his face with a movement she and Dean had practiced during the summer when Crookshanks – the cat she had gotten for her birthday – had joined the fighting, scratching his way through.

Harry jumped and took hold of the wand Black disarmed earlier, screaming for her to get out of the way. She moved aside and Harry pointed the tip of his wand at the mass murderer in the room.

They had started talking, Sirius trying to get Harry to listen to him but Harry refusing, accusing him of killing his parents. Repeating parts of conversations they had had during the year, about Black selling Lily and James to Voldemort, about Harry hearing his mother begging to Voldemort not to kill him every time the Dementors are coming.

Hermione looked at the exchange, satisfied at the bleeding nose and black eye she given Black. He deserved it. He deserved it all and everything that was coming, but she knew Harry wouldn't kill him.

She knew that even if it came to him or them, Harry might not be able to do it. He was too good for that, too naïve.

She, on the other hand…

Her thoughts were disturbed when she heard footsteps coming their way.

"We're up here!" she screamed. "We're up here! Sirius Black! _Quick_!"

Professor Lupin came, barging in, looking at the scene for less than a second before disarming Harry and Hermione yet again. His gaze returned to Black.

"Well, well, Sirius," he said. "Looking rather ragged, aren't we? Finally, the flesh  
>reflects the madness within."<p>

"Well, you'd know all about the madness within, wouldn't you?" Black questioned, before the duo hugged.

"_I don't believe it!_" Hermione screamed. Lupin let go of Black and turned to her. "You…" she stuttered. "You and him!"

"Hermione, calm down…"

But she had already pulled the knife out of her boot. "I didn't tell anyone!" she shrieked. "I've been covering up for you!"

Lupin's gaze fixed on the knife as he swallowed. "Silver, I presume?"

"Damn straight," Hermione said.

"So I didn't imagine it about your Boggart today, after all," he mused. "A hunter in Hogwarts."

"A what?" Harry asked.

"No!" Hermione screamed, angry at the man she'd been trusting all year long. "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too. He's a werewolf!"

Lupin looked at them all calmly, before saying, "Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione. Only one out of three, I'm afraid." The look in his eyes was almost mocking in Hermione's opinion. "I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead. But I won't deny that I am a werewolf."

Ron moved on the bed and Lupin stepped towards him, but Hermione held her knife at him.

"Get away from him, _werewolf_!"

"How long have you known?" Lupin questioned, a glimmer of hurt in his eyes.

"Since the first full moon of the year," she said. "I learned it all during the summer, so it was really piece of cake. You didn't even do such a great job at hiding it. And when Snape gave that essay –"

"He'll be delighted," Lupin said, almost mockingly. "He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant... Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the Boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"

"Both," Hermione said, causing Lupin to force a laugh.

"You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione."

"I'm not," Hermione whispered. "If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are! Or, better yet, use some of what I was taught over the summer."

Lupin eyed the silver knife carefully as Hermione raised it higher into the air. "Let's be careful with that now," he said slowly. "Somebody might get hurt."

"That's half the point," Hermione replied. "Give me _one_ reason not to."

"Because I can explain," he said. "And because by the looks of it, your friends also deserve an explanation."

Hermione looked from the corner of her eye at Harry and Ron, who looked startled from seeing their best friend the way she was the past couple of minutes. Slowly, she stepped backwards and looked at Lupin with anticipation, playing with the knife in her hand.

"Be careful," Black said, worryingly but she waved the warning away.

Lupin returned their wands to them and started explaining his story, of how he was bitten as a child, how Dumbledore found a way for him to attend Hogwarts and how his friends turned Animagi so he won't be alone. As the story went on, Hermione felt a tinge of pain, thinking that all werewolves had stories like that – families, people they loved.

She pushed the thought away from her head quickly. They were monsters. That's what she was taught.

Professor Snape interrupted the conversation, and they disarmed him, knocking him unconscious as they did, before Lupin turned to look at Hermione.

"Your turn," was all he said but Hermione took a deep breath before turning to her best friends and revealing the secret of who she truly was, on her father's side, at least.


	8. Truths and Lies

**A/N:**** Wow. I don't think I can ever form into words how much I love you guys.**

**Dark Balance - There _will_ be a couple of small diversions on Canon, but not much. For example - Dean and Sam aren't going to be finding the truth about Hermione soon. (I have that entirely planned in my head and that is not now.) But anyway, I'm glad you like the story and hope you keep enjoying it :)**

**attlantica - To be honest, I didn't plan on actually writing the scene where Hermione is explaining everything to Ron and Harry... Until I read your review and thought, "What the heck, let's do it." So I hope you will like what it turned out to be.**

**AnnaOxford - See what was written to attlantica and notice that I _did_ put those differences in the chapter, mainly because you mentioned them, so thank you.**

**MidnightPenguin - Dean/Hermione moments just for you.**

**Everybody else - Even though I didn't have anything to respond in particular to your reviews, I still do appriciate them and I love you all!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter (Sigh)**

* * *

><p>June 1994.<p>

"My dad is what's commonly called a Hunter," Hermione began. "He's been doing this most of his life, ever since a demon possessed Karen."

"Karen?" Harry asked.

"His wife," she replied.

"Your mother?" Lupin questioned.

"No," Hermione said, eyeing the werewolf carefully. "My parents weren't married, and my mom wasn't even in the picture back then. The demon possessed Karen and attacked my dad and he… he had no choice other than to kill her. Rufus came. He was a young hunter back then. He helped Dad to hide the body and taught him everything he knew, and Dad became a hunter, too."

"But… what _is_ a hunter?" Ron asked.

"Hunters hunt supernatural beings," Hermione explained. "Vengeful spirits, demons, monsters you've never even heard of – Rugarus, Wendigoes." She sent a worried look at Lupin and Black. "Werewolves and Skinwalkers."

"What's a Skinwalker?" Harry asked, having not missed the look Hermione sent towards his godfather.

"Skinwalkers can turn into animals – into _dogs_, more specifically," she said. "Distant cousins of non-magical werewolves."

"And your dad _hunts_ those things?"

"Not just him," Hermione said. "Rufus is like an uncle to me, John and his boys Dean and Sammy come to visit every summer. Dad once sent me to the Roadhouse for a weekend – it's a bar for hunters."

"And they all hunt creatures?" Ron asked.

"Non-magical creatures, yes," Hermione said.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked.

"Hunters who know about the magical world know what an Animagus is, and know they can come in all kinds of animal shapes," she explained. "They know the differences between magical and regular werewolves, and none of them would try to hunt any of the ghosts in the castle. They –"

"They know about wand-carriers," Lupin cut her off, "and about the difference between us and witches who got their power from demons. How many of those do you know, Hermione?"

Hermione looked down in shame. "Two," she replied. "My dad and Rufus."

"And what do you think any other hunter would do to if they found out what you were?" Lupin asked. "You know how trigger happy hunters can be. How many witches do you think John has killed? Or Rufus and your dad before they learned the truth? What do you think all the nice hunters at the Roadhouse would do to _you_ –"

"Stop!" Hermione called, the knife in her shaking hand pointed at her professor's chest.

"That's just what most wizards think about hunters, Hermione," Black said, clearly trying to calm the distressed witch. "It's exactly the same kind of prejudice as the one against werewolves."

"It's different," she said, her voice shaking.

"Why?" Lupin asked calmly, unintimidated by the weapon his student was pointing at him. "Because one of them is your family and the other is a creature your family taught you to hate?"

Tears were now openly streaming down Hermione's face as the knife dropped to the floor. She stumbled back until she fell on the bed Ron was laying on and the redhead rubbed circles on her back as she silently cried.

"We got away from the point," Harry told them. "I still don't believe what you're saying."

"Then it's time we offered you some proof," Lupin replied. "You, boy, give me Peter, please. Now."

* * *

><p>When Hermione got off the train and ran to hug her father, he was less than pleased to say the least.<p>

"You gave a _convicted murderer_ our home address?" he asked her in disbelief. "A convicted murderer who can _turn into a dog_?"

Hermione shrugged. "Will it help if I'd say he was framed by a man who can turn into a rat?" she asked.

"Not really!" Bobby said.

"Well, he's my best friend's godfather," she said. "And they all know I'm a hunter now. Well, that you're a hunter."

"You're not making it any better," he replied. "Why the hell would you do something like that?"

"Because he had nowhere else to go," Hermione said. "Come on, Daddy, you wouldn't let a homeless man who was framed for a murder he didn't commit and is on the run be caught, would you?"

"You told him our home address!" Bobby said. "He appeared from the middle of nowhere last night, on a flying bird-horse!"

"They're called Hippogriffs, Daddy," she said. "And they have very fragile honor, so I wouldn't let him hear you call him like that, or he might attack. That's actually why Sirius took him. He was sentenced to death because some idiot student wouldn't listen."

"A murderous, honorable, flying bird-horse on the run with a shape-shifter convicted murderer who is the godfather of your best friend," Bobby repeated.

"That pretty much sums it up," Hermione said. "Oh, and he's not a shape-shifter, he's an Animagus."

"You'll be the death of me one day, you know that?"

"I really hope I won't," Hermione said. "I wouldn't want you dead anytime soon. Or at all."

They flooed home, where Sirius was sitting on the couch, reading the most recent Daily Prophet. He looked much better now that he took a shower and cut most of his beard off, but he still had the haunted look in his eyes Hermione saw the night she and Harry let him go.

_"Go to America," she'd told him. "Search for Singer's Salvage Yard in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. My dad will let you in once you told him I sent you, but only come when he's alone, and leave Buckbeak in the woods next to the forest."_

_"Are you sure?" Sirius had asked her as Harry looked at her in disbelief. "Helping a convicted –"_

_"I'm not going to leave you with nowhere to go," Hermione said severely. "Just… stay safe, will you?"_

"Put that thing away!" Bobby called, ripping Hermione away from the memory. "It has _moving pictures_ in it and I'm supposed to have company soon!"

"Who's coming?" Hermione asked, excited.

"Who d'you think?" Bobby asked. "I'm actually surprised Dean didn't run away just to arrive here sooner."

"Don't be silly," Hermione told her father. "Dean wouldn't leave Sammy alone for ten seconds."

"Um…" Sirius looked confused. "Dean and Sammy?" he asked.

"They're my best friends here in the States," Hermione explained.

"And their dad's a hunter," Bobby said. "And _none of them_ knows about your kind of magic, so would you please put that damn newspaper away?"

Sirius folded the newspaper and went upstairs to put it away, and Bobby turned back to his daughter.

"John needs a help with a nest not far away," he said. "I'll join him and the boys will be here. Sirius" – he said the name as if it were some kind of a curse – "will be here to keep an eye on you and the boys, and you'll need to keep an eye on _him_. He doesn't seem very… understanding when it comes to electricity. He jumped in fear when the toaster worked this morning."

"You need to remember he's a pureblood wizard," Hermione said softly. "And that he was in a prison positioned on an isolated island for the past thirteen years."

"Yeah, yeah," her father said. "But keep an eye on him, will ya?"

"You know I will, Daddy," Hermione said. "Now, when will the boys be here?"

The father and daughter spent the next couple of hours unpacking her bag and talking, as Hermione recounted a very censored edition of all she went through during the past year.

She told him about the fight with Harry and Ron, about Buckbeak and Malfoy and Sirius's story. She _forgot_ to mention that she had been using a time-turner to arrive to all of her classes, and the fact that her DADA teacher was a werewolf _slipped out of her mind_, a notion that Sirius didn't miss. He did, however, have the brains not to mention it, seeing as she was the main reason Bobby hadn't kicked him out yet.

Hours had passed and the evening arrived, bringing three tired-looking Winchesters along with it. Bobby and John hit the road, not before a quiet argument about the stranger that was supposed to keep an eye on their children, and Sam fell asleep on the bed right away. Sirius sat in the kitchen, reading a book about shape-shifters while Dean and Hermione watched a movie marathon – with the combination of popcorn and licorice.

Around two on the morning, Sirius took his eyes off the book. He would never admit it – and especially not when Moony was around – but he actually quite enjoyed a good book from time to time. He looked at the sleeping teenagers on the sofa, who fell asleep a couple of hours earlier, and shut the TV down, covered them with a blanket and took the popcorn bowl away.

As he crossed the living room again, wondering where he was to sleep since the sofa was taken, he saw Hermione turning in her sleep.

_She was back at the grounds of Hogwarts, moments after Professor Lupin's transformation. He didn't take his potion – he was dangerous and she had to protect her friends. Launching at him with her silver knife, she had managed to hurt him enough so that he would back away from her, just as howling was heard from the forest._

_She was at the forest, watching herself fighting the werewolf. Doing the only thing she could think of, she howled, causing the monster to come running her was. Hermione and Harry ran through the trees, the werewolf closing in on them. He was getting closer and closer when suddenly –_

"Hermione!"

She woke up with a start to the sound of her name being called and somebody shaking her. Opening her eyes, she saw Dean and Sirius both looking at her with worry.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I… just a nightmare," she mumbled.

"What about?" Sirius questioned.

"Werewolves," Hermione whispered and the look on the older wizard's face suddenly became more understanding.

"Dean, take 'Mione up, would you?" he asked the teenager who nodded, wrapping an arm around his best friend.

"Let's go to bed," he said, and all of the sudden Hermione realized he was fifteen already.

It had been nearly ten years since they met, and during that time, he had grown taller, stronger. He was practically carrying her up the stairs to her room. When he put her on her bed, her breathing was back to normal and he looked at her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "Can you just..." She hesitated for less than a moment. "Can you stay?"

"Of course," Dean replied, lying next to her and wrapping his arm around her waist.

It was so hard for him to see her having a nightmare. She was so scared, and there was nothing he could do about it. So he hugged her tight and let her fall asleep with her head on his chest, attempting to protect her if he could.

It wasn't until after she fell asleep that he finished the sentence he began earlier.

"Anything for you."


	9. Cats and Dogs

**A/N:**** I am so sorry it took me this long to update! I just had a bit of trouble writing this chapter and then I was sure I sent it to my beta (The amazing Jay Nice) and I didn't, and I only found out right before I published and then I didnt have any time...**

**But here you go, hope you'd like it!**

**As usual, thank you to all of the reviewers, favs and followers, every time I see it it just makes my day.**

**TtylerMaria - Sam has just turned eleven, which means if he was going to Hogwarts that would be the coming year... Might be interesting to write but not in this story, sorry!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

><p>June – July 1994.<p>

The next morning, Hermione and Dean were awaken at a ridiculously early hour by a hyperactive ginger cat, who didn't seem to be so pleased with the way his owner had been neglecting him since they came back here. It climbed on the bed, scratching her legs and sitting on Dean's chest. The duo immediately woke up, and the cat fell onto Dean's lap where it curled.

"Who's that?" Dean asked with a smile once he realized the situation.

"That's Crookshanks," Hermione said. "My cat."

"Since when do you have a cat?" Dean questioned.

"Birthday present from my dad," she told him shortly. "Isn't he adorable?"

"He is kinda cute," Dean said, scratching behind the cat's ears.

"He likes you," Hermione smiled. "That's a new one. He's not very friendly."

"How can that," he marked at the big ball of fur in his lap, "not count as friendly?"

"He only likes Sirius, you and me," Hermione said. "He barely gets along with Harry, _despises_ Ron and spent the whole of yesterday scratching my dad."

"They just don't know to appreciate him," Dean said, causing Crookshanks to hum in appreciation. "Let's go downstairs."

As if he heard him, Crookshanks climbed off Dean's lap and headed out of the room and towards the stairs. When Hermione and Dean arrived at the kitchen, they found him curled in Sirius's lap, much to the discomfort of the older man.

"I'll make us some breakfast," Hermione offered.

"I'll go wake Sammy up," Dean said, turning to get out of the kitchen.

"Dean!" Hermione called after him and he turned to her. "Can you please…" She hesitated. "Can you not tell my dad about my nightmare last night?"

"Why?" Dean asked.

"I don't want him to think I can't handle it," Hermione said, her heart aching at the lie she just told her best friend. "If he knew I was having nightmares he might stop the training and…"

"Don't worry," Dean said. "Your secret is safe with me."

He turned and left the room, and Hermione sighed, opening the fridge and trying to decide what breakfast should they eat today. Just as she decided on pancakes, Sirius spoke from behind her.

"You lie an awful lot, do you know that?" he asked.

"Said the convicted murderer on the run," Hermione commented.

"Framed convicted murderer," Sirius corrected her. "I've never done what I was accused of. You, on the other hand –"

"I am the reason you have a roof above your head at the moment," Hermione reminded him as she cooked. "So if I were you, I'd be careful with what I said."

"Not taken and gratitude applied," Sirius told her. "But you can't hide it forever. They're bound to find out one day."

"Then I will do everything I can to make sure that day will be in the _very_ distant future. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have pancakes to make," she added, clearly sending him away.

The day went on without further problems. Dean and Hermione were talking and laughing, Sammy was reading books and Sirius simply sat in the sun, enjoying the freedom he now had after thirteen years and only moving after a couple of hours to feed Buckbeak – not that Dean or Sam knew that, of course.

Around dinnertime, Bobby and John returned. Apparently, the hunt was easier than they expected it to be, but John and the boys were still planning to stay a while longer. Sirius insisted on making them all dinner, wanting to leave a good impression on Bobby and John, and Hermione volunteered to set the table.

An hour and a half later, spaghetti bolognese was served, being the only dish Sirius actually knew how to make. Conversation flowed during the meal, until John decided enough was enough.

"So," he said, faking casualty, "what were you imprisoned for?"

Silence fell over the table. Dean and Sammy stopped their discussion but kept their eyes on the food as to not appear rude, and Bobby and Hermione visibly tensed, a fact that John wasn't unaware of. Sirius, however, remained calm.

"Treason," he said simply, causing Dean to choke on his pasta. "I was framed, of course," he added. "The _real_ traitor blew up a whole street before running away." He took a gulp of water before calmly adding, "As a mouse."

This time, it was John's turn to choke on his food.

"A mouse?" he asked.

"A _rat_, to be exact," Sirius replied, ignoring the shocked faces of the three Winchesters.

"And how, exactly, did you meet Mya?" Dean asked when he rediscovered his ability to speak.

Sirius couldn't help but smile at the protectiveness in the teenager's voice. Even at fifteen, he had it hard for her, and he didn't even know it! And, by the looks of it, neither did she.

"I'm godfather to one of her best friends at the school," Sirius said, carefully choosing his words but still speaking fluently enough so that nobody would think he's trying to hide something. "After I broke out, I went there to make sure he was safe. Told them the truth, got caught and he and Hermione busted me out."

"So you just came here, all the way from Scotland?" John questioned suspiciously.

"Wasn't as easy as you make it sound, mind you," Sirius told him. "Luckily, my old headmaster believed I was telling the truth so he pulled a couple of strings. The old man still has a lot of influence."

Hermione looked at Sirius with awe. He had just managed to tell the whole of his story without once mentioning magic, time-turners, werewolves, Voldemort or the fact that he's an Animagus that can change into a dog. She had to admit that she was impressed.

"I owe him quite a lot," Sirius went on. "Not as much as I owe Hermione, though. Getting me out, her and Bobby letting me stay here… she saved my life."

"Of course she did," Sam said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. That's what Hermione does. She helps people."

Hermione's face turned a shade of red that would embarrass any Weasley's hair. Right at this point, mercifully, Crookshanks decided to go to sleep – on Dean's lap.

"Since when do you have a cat?" John questioned.

"Since Hermione asked for one as a birthday present," Bobby replied. "The little devil."

"Don't speak to him like that!" Hermione said, annoyed. "That attitude is _exactly_ the reason he doesn't like you, you know."

"He doesn't like me because he doesn't like anybody," Bobby said.

"He likes Mya," Dean retorted. "And he likes Sirius and me. He's cute," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Certainly better than _dogs_." He sent a meaningful look at Sam's direction.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh as the younger boy pouted and started defending his favorite animal, and Bobby was certain he didn't imagine Crookshanks opening a single eye and looking at Sirius, sending him a victorious glare.

_It's gonna be a long summer_, he thought, sighing to himself.

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><p>"Hermione!"<p>

Hermione looked up from the book she was reading. It had been three days since Dean and Sam left again, and she'd spent most of her time either in the woods with Buckbeak or reading hunting books in her room.

It was nearing dinnertime, and she thought she knew what her father was calling her for.

"Yes, Daddy?" she asked as innocently as she could muster.

"Get down here, please," Bobby replied.

The teenager walked down the stairs trying to keep the smile off her face as she saw the figure that stood next to her father.

"Hello, Professor Lupin," she told the guest. "Where's Sirius?"

"I believe he went to another room so he could stop himself from bursting into laughter," Lupin replied.

"I see," she said, biting her lip and wondering if maybe she could join him. "You've met my dad, I believe?"

"He has," Bobby said. "Care to explain why you invited your professor –"

"Former professor," Lupin couldn't help but correct.

"– _Former_ professor over to dinner?" he finished the sentence.

"Well, many wizards have the wrong idea about hunters," Hermione replied. "I thought we can try and work on that and maybe even… learn something ourselves, while we're at it."

From behind the old hunter, Lupin smiled proudly, but Bobby looked straight at his daughter.

"Why didn't you ask me first?"

"So that you couldn't say 'No'," she said simply.

"I think I will join Sirius at the other room," Lupin said.

"Just one more thing," Bobby said, causing the werewolf to stop as both he and the teenager looked at him expectantly. "Any reason his name meaning is basically 'Werewolf McWerewolf?"

"Yes, Daddy," Hermione said. "To give you a headache, of course."

Lupin let out a relieved sigh and Bobby shook his head in disbelief as they both followed the young witch towards the kitchen where Sirius was setting up a table for four.

Bobby couldn't help but notice he made sure there was nothing made of silver on the table.

"If I'd known you didn't ask Bobby, I wouldn't have helped you," Sirius whispered to Hermione.

"Which is exactly why I didn't tell you," she replied.

"I am truly sorry for coming uninvited like that," Lupin said. "I was certain Hermione spoke to you."

"Mya's always been the kind who'd rather say sorry than ask and risk getting a 'no'," Bobby said. "And I keep making the mistake of forgiving her."

"Don't be mean," Hermione scolded, and both Lupin and Sirius had to bite their tongue as to not laugh at the teenager scolding her father, rather than the other way around.

"She really is something special," Lupin added. "Brightest witch of her age."

"More than that, even," Sirius said. "I don't think I've ever met someone like her. Except for Lene, maybe."

"Pads, I know you dated her, but Lene was a blonde bimbo. Mind my language," he added, looking at Hermione and Bobby worriedly.

"I've heard worse," Hermione shrugged.

"She has," Bobby sighed.

"Not McKinnon!" Sirius said. "The other one… she was a fourth year when we were first years, you remember her! Rogers!" he finally called. "Marlene Rogers."

Both Bobby and Hermione dropped their forks and looked at him with identical looks of surprise on their faces.

"You knew Mar?" Bobby asked.

"Marlene Rogers, Gryffindor, black, curly hair and a look that would make McGonagall cave?" Lupin asked.

"That's the one," Bobby said.

"How in Merlin's name do you know Lene?" Sirius asked, amused.

"She's my mother," Hermione whispered. "My mom was a Gryffindor?"

"Bravest one I've ever seen," Sirius told her. "She was pretty good friends with the Prewett twins – the three of them always helped when Slytherins cornered me."

"She died at the war," Lupin added and Bobby nodded. He'd suspected that much. "Voldemort came after her himself. She never stood a chance."

"I remember that case," Sirius replied. "I was an Auror – like the police – and James and I were first on the scene. Her parents, her younger brothers – they were dead and so was she, but so were three Death Eaters. She defended her family singlehandedly and fought bravely. It was the end of January 1980."

"Couldn't've been more than a week after she brought you here," Bobby mumbled, tears shining in his eyes. "Thank you," he added. "For telling us."

"No problem," Sirius said.

"Anything," Lupin added.

Hermione sat silently for another couple of seconds before getting up and giving her father a long hug.


End file.
